


Sophomore

by dizzy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:40:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy/pseuds/dizzy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Katie had an anon and I succumb to peer pressure easily. </p>
<p>(prompt: http://heavenorspace.tumblr.com/post/47884525186/anonymous-asked-you-hi-random-but-have-you)</p>
<p>Perpetual thanks to my inspiration in porn, Mav. Somehow I managed this one alone but it was your spirit guiding me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sophomore

Darren Criss doesn't do shameful little secrets. 

He stands up in front of his fifth period english class and announced the topic of his latest essay. 

"I'm a teenage boy, and I love Glee." He waits patiently until the laughter dies down, the grin on his own face undimmed. When his teacher finally nods for him to go on, he starts to read. "First of all, have you _seen_ Chris Colfer..." 

* 

His parents might not understand his obsession, but they indulge it. 

He buys every magazine he can find with Chris Colfer's face on it and he jerks off to most of them. Sometimes he buys multiple copies because he can't resist the urge to blow all over the page, as close as he'll ever get to actually coming on that perfect face. It's the only time he feels any true hint of guilt; when he closes the sticky ruined book together and drops it into the trash. 

If his parents notice that he starts to take his own trash out more often without being prompted, and suddenly he's doing his own laundry regularly with no hassle, then they politely mention neither. If they notice the bottle of lube he forgets to put away sometimes in his rush to leave in the morning, they maintain the facade of ignorance. 

If they notice that it's Kurt's scenes Darren backs up to watch a second, third, fourth time and not the scenes with any of the cheerleaders then they don't choose not to comment out of politeness, but they just genuinely don't care. 

* 

For his sixteenth birthday they tell him that over spring break they're taking a trip to Los Angeles. 

They had him the tickets for the Glee set tour and Darren has to clamp his thighs together to hide the impromptu boner he gets at the very thought of being in the same room as Chris Colfer. 

The only problem is that he has over a month to build it up in his head and by the time March rolls around he feels like he's going to be sick when he thinks of what he'll say, what he'll do, what _Chris Colfer_ might think of him... 

He refuses when his mother wants him to get a haircut that week and defiantly picks out his own clothes the day of: a Harry Potter t-shirt (Chris loves Harry Potter), jeans that already cling and won't survive his next growth spurt, a pair of pink sunglasses (Chris has turquoise ones; Darren wanted those but the store hadn't carried that color), and his favorite pair of socks with little microphones on them in different colors. 

"Fuck yeah," he thinks, looking into the mirror. He sees a gawky boy with too-large feet and toothpick arms and a mop of hair and tilts his head up, grinning. "I look fucking good." 

* 

They say they can never guarantee ahead of time that any actors will be available to stop and say hi to the tour group, but Darren is pretty sure his mother gave them the full scoop on this being his sixteenth birthday present because the tour guide says she thinks a few of the Glee cast will probably be around and she looks right at Darren and winks. 

Darren's only there with his brother. His parents had seemed more relieved than anything when he said he'd rather go alone, but they hadn't budged on the Chuck issue. 

By this point Darren doesn't even care. 

His stomach does somersaults and he doesn't remember a word anyone says about anything until a beam of light shines down from heaven and the most gorgeous person Darren has never laid eyes on steps through the door. 

He literally takes a step back, because fuck. 

That's Chris Colfer. 

*

Chris stops to say hi to a few of the people in front, even pausing to take a picture with a little girl no more than three years old whose mother is a fan.

Darren mentally adds that to the little file folder in his brain of future life plans: have Chris Colfer's babies. By the time he's in college, surely science will have caught up to that lofty goal - and if not, well, Darren can just change his major to goddamn science and figure it out himself. 

He's so busy processing the thought that he almost misses it when Chris straightens up and says, "So I hear I have a fan." 

Darren's brother - his evil, wonderful, awful, amazing brother - grabs Darren's hand and yanks it up. "Right here," Chuck calls out. "The one that just swallowed his tongue." 

That's not all Darren would like to swallow. 

"Hi," he says, finding his voice somehow. He yanks his hand away from Chuck and stumbles forward with a goofy grin on his face. "I'm your biggest fan." 

Chris looks surprised, looks around like he thinks it might be a joke, and then hesitantly smiles back. "You are not what I was expecting." 

A remark like that could go either way, but it delights Darren. 

"So I've got this bone to pick with you," Darren says, not wanting to mince words. "You're perpetuating a totally dumb stereotype." 

Chris is even more taken aback. "What?" 

"That whole thing you do in interviews where you say that all your fans are teenage girls." Darren does a little flaily arm motion that ends with him pointing both fingers back at himself. "Number one fan. No titties in sight." 

Chris looks like he wants to either laugh or run away. "What?" He says again. 

Chuck is still standing aside listening, though he has that expression of wanting to gag his little brother. He's a big advocate of letting Darren dig his own holes, though. 

"No titties," Darren repeats. He puts a hand on his hip. "I'm a boy. And I'm totally your biggest fan." 

"Well." Chris starts, and then stops. "Well, okay. I stand corrected." 

"Good, now, okay, I have like - shit, I've got presents for you. And just, don't drop them in the trash on your way out, okay, because- hah." Darren fishes through his messenger bag and pulls out a crumpled up paper bag. "It's a cd, with some songs I wrote, and some I just think you'll dig. And um - a letter with some stuff I want to say in it. Oh, and I drawing I did of you as a Ninja Turtle one day while I was in algebra. It's wicked." 

Chris looks down at the bag in his hand and back up at Darren. Darren flounders a little then, like he needs to say more, like maybe Chris is going to walk away if he doesn't. 

But the decision is made for them when the studio tour starts to move on. "I need to get back to set, but it was great meeting you," Chris says. He reaches out and pats Darren on the shoulder. 

Well, that's just not gonna fucking do. 

"Hold on," Darren says, and then he blurts out: "I want a hug." 

"Oh, um. Okay." Chris looks around and then hands the stuff Darren gave him to Chuck. He has about two seconds after that before Darren is launching himself forward, arms tight around Chris's neck. 

Darren's mind is a jumble of _he smells perfect_ and _can I hump him just a little_ and _oh shit I thought about humping now I'm hard_ and _do I have to let him go_ and _why do I have to let him go_. 

He knows he holds on for way too long and he knows it's awkward but for some reason Chris doesn't back away, and when Chris does finally step back there's a flush on his cheeks and he's looking at Darren a little bit differently. 

"It was nice meeting you, Darren," Chris says, smiling. He takes his gifts back from Chuck and walks away. 

Once he's out of earshot, Darren groans. "He could totally feel my boner, couldn't he."

"I'd give you a sympathetic pat on the back but I don't want to overexcite you," Chuck teases as they walk quickly to catch up with the glaring tour guide. 

* 

Things Darren Criss does not expect to happen: 

Getting a record deal before he turns 18.   
Winning the lottery.   
To own a 1964 Cherry Gibson SG, especially without previously mentioned lottery win.   
For Chris Colfer to call him. 

And then one of them does, and he doesn't really mind the hit to his accuracy, because _Chris fucking Colfer_ called him. 

* 

He calls while Darren is in a show with his parents.

Darren's actually glad. He can play this voicemail over nonstop now. 

"I listened to your mix tape," Chris says. "And I just wanted to thank you. You're actually really good - I liked the tracks of yours on there as much as I did some of the other ones, though I'm definitely going to download some stuff by that band you mentioned so much in the liner notes. Those were cute, by the way. I'm calling from my publicity agent's phone - security stuff, sorry - but I'm going to leave you her phone number and if you're free for coffee or dinner while you're in town, let me know. After all, I need to encourage my male fanbase of one." 

Darren drops down onto the bed with his arms flung over his head and an open-mouthed smile on his face. He stays that way for twenty minutes, his parents asking once or twice if he's all right and then mostly ignoring him. 

* 

Chris's publicity agent is sweet, and falls to Darren's enthusiastic charm in about two seconds flat. She tells him a few general rules of etiquette and asks a few questions that sound more like an interview than a conversation, but Darren doesn't care. He answers everything, and at length. Then she speaks to his parents to keep them informed and get permission, takes down Darren's hotel information and says that they'll send a car over.

* 

Dinner with Chris is nothing like Darren expected at all. 

The first thing is: they talk. 

They talk, and talk, and it feels like the conversation just whips and whirls and glides around them. The potential for awkward pausing is there but Darren has never met a silence he can't fill and Chris - Chris wants to know about him. 

Chris wants to know so _much_ about him, and the conversation comes around to dating and Chris gets this look on his face, like he's wary and intrigued and just can't help himself. "No girlfriend? Or boyfriend?" 

Darren just shakes his head. "Nope. I mean, come on, like I've got time for that shit between having an existential crisis over-" 

He gestures up and down at Chris. 

Chris grins a little, reaching up to smooth back his already perfectly tousled and upswept hair. "You know, I'd accuse you of exaggerating, but I did hear the songs." 

"How do you even know those are about you?" Darren lifts an eyebrow. 

Chris pokes out his lip in a pout. "Weren't they?" 

Oh. 

Well. 

That's fucking hot. 

Darren swallows down whatever blatant sexual offer is about to come flying out of his mouth to say, "Yeah, they were." 

* 

Dinner, dessert, done - home? 

Maybe not. 

"So, I'm supposed to call the driver to come back and then safely deliver you to your hotel," Chris says. "But it's only half past seven. Do you want to hang out a little more?" 

Darren's face lights up. "Let's go to a club!" 

"You're underage," Chris says, gently. 

"You are not trying to tell me you never went to a club when you were under 21," Darren says, pointing a finger at him. "I saw the pictures. The internet is everywhere." 

"Stalker," Chris accuses, but he's laughing. 

* 

"I want to meet Brian," Darren says, wide-eyed and hopeful. They have coffee and they're meandering back down the sidewalk to where Chris has his own car parked. 

Chris immediately gets this flash of a panicky expression before he bites his lip. "Darren, I really don't think it's a good idea for me to take a sixteen year old boy back to my house." 

The boy part stings a little but he's undeterred. "Then I won't go in. You can bring him outside. I just want to meet the star of your instagram, okay?" 

He uses his best puppy-eyed expression, even doing a little half-spin on his feet and whining. 

"Oh my god, stop," Chris says, trying not to laugh. "Stop, okay, let's go." 

* 

"It's smaller than I expected," Darren says, squinting at the house they pull up to. 

Chris shrugs. "It's just me and the cat." 

"Yeah? Really?" He asks. "So... the lady told me not to be too inquisitive, but can I ask just like, one blatantly invasive question? And you can tell me to shut the fuck up if you want to-" 

"Go ahead." Chris kills the car engine and opens his door. 

Darren waits until they're inside to ask. "Were you really dating that dude?" 

Chris doesn't answer at first. "Which one?" 

Darren rolls his eyes. "You know which one. That one from all the pictures last year. The douchebag." 

"He wasn't-" Chris starts to say, automatically, then looks at Darren and just shrugs. "He served his purpose." 

"But you're not with him anymore?" He looks around Chris's living room. It's very... "Blue. You must really like blue. Do I get a tour?" 

"No," Chris says, and he squats down to call out for Brian. "C'mere, fat cat." 

"I've already seen your bedroom," Darren adds, hoping that'll make a difference. 

Chris's head jerks up. "What?" 

"I mean - you did this livestream from there once. You had bedhead. It was really hot." He thinks compliments probably won't hurt his case. 

Of course, Chris probably doesn't want to show him around because he thinks the implications of a sixteen year old guy in just his house are bad. Also because he probably realizes Darren just wants to fuel his own perverted idealistic fantasies. But how killer would it be to picture the extra bed Chris gets off in. 

Shit. 

Chris gets off in that bed. And maybe in this house - in other places. Maybe he's had sex against the wall. On the couch. The coffee table-

"Darren?" Chris asks, caught somewhere between embarrassed and amused. 

Darren can feel the heat on his skin. He clears his throat. "Oh, hey, the cat!" 

* 

Chris makes Darren call to check in with his parents. 

They're out to dinner and don't answer, so he leaves a voicemail. 

"Your parents trust you this much?" Chris asks, sounding peculiar. 

Darren shrugs. He's made himself at home on Chris's couch, Brian purring contentedly on his lap. "Why wouldn't they?"

And Chris, somehow, just lets it go at that. He grabs the remove and settles down, a respectable foot of space between them that Darren eyes like it's the great divide and his new quest in life is to cross it. 

"So why are you a fan of mine?" Chris asks. 

It's not a question he needs to think about to answer. The letter he'd written Chris had a hint of it but he'd refrained from gushing. He'd been more interested in trying to convey things to Chris about himself that would make him stand out to Chris. "Because you've got a story, and you're using it to do good for yourself and for kids in positions like you were in. And you're this crazy good actor and singer and writer and it's like someone told you that you could do anything you wanted in life and you believed it, and I want to be that kind of person." 

Chris is smiling at him and Darren's insides want to knot themselves up into a pretty little bow at how close he feels in this moment. 

"And you're also hot," he adds. 

Chris laughs and covers his face with his hands. "You can stop saying that." 

"Why?" Darren asks. "It's true." 

He does scoot a little closer then. There are alarm bells resounding in the tension between them but Darren sees Chris looking at his mouth. "When I was sixteen, I'd never been kissed," Chris says. "Have you?" 

"Yeah," Darren says, but he sees where Chris still has his eyes fixed and he licks his lips. "But if it gets you going, I can pretend you'd be the first." 

"I'm not going to kiss you," Chris instantly says. 

"I think you are," Darren says back. 

And then the distance is gone and Brian is mewling a complaint as he digs his back paws into Darren's thigh as a springboard to exist the scene from. Darren doesn't mind, he barely even notices it, because Chris goddamn Colfer is licking between his lips like it's tonsillectomy time in makeoutsville and Darren is all on board for it. 

* 

They make out for ten minutes, and it's enough to have Darren melted into a puddle of happy horny teenage boy. Chris doesn't ask if he's a virgin. Chris doesn't ask much at all, really, besides the occasional _is this okay_ and _do we need to stop_. 

(The answer is always yes, and no, respectively.) 

Chris seems to know what he wants, though. He looks at Darren and Darren just knows there's a whole lot going on behind the scenes, behind those eyes, but Chris seems to be carefully metering out what he actually says to Darren. 

He isn't quite so careful with his actions, though. He palms his hand over Darren's thigh and then to his dick, goes after it with purpose. "Last night I jerked off listening to that song," he says, and he sounds less tortured over it than Darren might have expected. 

The hand between Darren's legs is cupping Darren's cock. Chris uses rolling pressure of his palm to drive Darren into a panting, sweating craze. Does he know that Darren could probably come from this in two minutes flat? Well, yeah. Chris was a teenage himself not that long ago, so probably. He thinks of baby faced Kurt from season one with the chubby cheeks and the pert little nose and then he looks at the man beside him, sharp jaw and solid muscle and a look on his face like he's just going to eat Darren alive and then go back for seconds. 

"Oh, god," Darren keens. He's past the point of stringing together words that both make sense and aren't directly related to orgasm.

"You're so gorgeous." Chris bites a kiss just shy of hard enough to leave a mark at the nape of Darren's neck. "And I wanted you. I've never done this before, with a fan." 

"Why the fuck not?" Darren gasps, laughing and trying to buck his hips up and hump into the bleeding warmth of the hand on him through his jeans. He can't imagine Chris doesn't have people flinging themselves onto his dick day and night. What kind of idiots exist in this town? "Never mind, I don't care, just please-" 

The hand slips away. Darren frantically fucks the air out of desperation for more touch. 

"I'm going to suck you," Chris says, kneeling calmly between Darren's legs. "Unless you tell me not to." 

"Suck me please suck my cock please," Darren babbles. "Please?" 

Chris laughs as he undoes Darren's pants and tugs them down. "You're very polite but you can stop saying please. I already told you I was going to." 

"I know, but-" 

Then there's a warm wet tongue swiping over the slick mess of precome smeared across the fat head of his cock. Darren has to shove the meaty part of his palm between his teeth to keep from making noise. 

Chris reaches up with one hand and grabs his wrist. "I want you to make noise for me." 

"Oh," Darren gasps. "Okay." 

And then he does - he makes noise, he makes a lot of noise as Chris teases him to the brink and then wrenches his orgasm away with a clamped down grip on the base of his cock. 

"You're so eager," Chris mutters when he comes up for air. "You want it, don't you, sweetheart?" 

Darren nods and fists a hand in his own hair, because one of his favorite things to do is imagine Chris is pulling it while he jerks off. 

Oh, that has him close again, but Chris can tell and his touch is gone in a heartbeat. 

He does it two or three times, until Darren has tears in his eyes with the wanting and his balls are tight little lumps against his body that Chris occasionally drops his mouth down to suck on. 

How it feels is almost eclipsed by how Chris looks, though. His lips and stretched tight and spit-slick, hair a mess from Darren's grasping and cheeks flushed high, redness that creeps down his neck and disappears into the white scoop of his undershirt. He's fully dressed and still more potent than the filthiest of porn Darren has watched. 

"Please," Darren says, because he feels like he's about to have a full on Looney Tunes moment where his head explodes except this time it'll just splatter jizz everywhere instead of shrill steam escaping. 

But this time Chris loosens his grip on Darren's cock and strokes his fingers up and down in a touch that maybe needs to be just a little tighter but it doesn't even matter because Darren is coming anyway and Chris - Chris, that dirty motherfucker, he's swallowing down Darren's come with greedy little suckles and half-shut eyes. 

Then he rocks back on his heels and shoves his hand to the front of his own pants and tips back his head, adams apple stark and jutting against his skin as he fucks forward into his own grasp and comes with a shutter and a bitten-off cry. 

Darren watches his cock and his cock gives another series of spasming jerks, come oozing out of the rigid shaft and trickling down to paint the still-pulsing veins. Impressive, since he'd been pretty sure there wasn't a single drop left in his sucked-dry balls. 

Chris stands up and walks away, leaving Darren with his pants around his ankles and his sweaty ass still planted on Chris's couch. He stays just like that until Chris comes back wearing different pants. He disappears again into what Darren assumes is the kitchen, calling out, "Bathroom - third door on the left." 

Darren waddles with a softening, sticky cock and his pants held up by his hands down the hallway. He cleans up and wipes off and then drops the wash cloth into the hamper, grinning as he imagines Chris having to pick it back up again later. 

Pants done back up but sex-stupid smile still on his face, he goes to find Chris again. The doors beckon him, though, and he can't resist turning the knob and stepping inside. 

It's Chris's bedroom. His breath catches at the painful intimacy of this, being able to see it. His mouth goes dry and for the first time it really dawns on him that this is a man, a person, and he just did a thing with his person, and he hadn't really thought this far at all. 

He sees a pile of laundry on the floor. He's not sure if it's clean or dirty until he brings a shirt to his face and breathes in. It smells tangy like sweat and deodorant and he balls it up, hurrying back into the living room to shove it into his bag before he finds Chris making them a snack in the kitchen. 

* 

They don't end up calling the driver at all. 

Instead, Chris takes Darren back himself. 

"You've got my phone number still, right?" Darren asks. It's the first time he's felt really nervous, and even if this is just a fantastic once in a lifetime even he'll be okay, he'll live with the best first blowjob story ever, but he still hopes it might be more. 

"Yeah." Chris sounds cautious but he doesn't outright shoot Darren down, and when they pull up to the hotel he leans over and cups Darrens cheek, kissing him softly. He pulls back, strokes a finger through Darren's hair and tugs at a springy curl, and then smiles with something like tenderness in his eyes. "I wish I met more guys like you." 

"Well, I hope you don't," Darren says, and steals another kiss with less technique but more intent. "Call me." 

"We'll see," Chris says, and lets Darren out.


End file.
